


on lightning that strikes twice (a story from floor 5)

by everythingFangirl (lynxleitmotif)



Series: when I'm with you, I can only be me (stories from the victors' tower) [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Friendship, Gen, bad programming metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-05-15
Updated: 2021-05-15
Packaged: 2021-05-17 00:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxleitmotif/pseuds/everythingFangirl
Summary: Fundy's a break in the pattern. At first he thought the kid was a gap in the code, a null variable, but… no, that’s not it. He’s a black box, buzzing with thoughts and activity inside, none of it reaching the surface.And that is something Michael can work with.(Edit 16/5/2021: replaced Hugbox with Fundy)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: when I'm with you, I can only be me (stories from the victors' tower) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715008
Comments: 20
Kudos: 102
Collections: victors' tower canon works





	on lightning that strikes twice (a story from floor 5)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts).
  * Inspired by [where there's smoke (floor 5)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561558) by Anonymous. 

> IIIIIIT'S YOUR BIIIIRTHDAY <strike>TODAY</strike> SOMETIME THIS MONTH
> 
> HAVOK!
> 
> I heard that Michael Reeves was your favorite from this AU, and it just so happens that I've been binging his content for a few days now! What a coincidence! I hope you like this.
> 
> Thanks to Anon as well for helping me with Michael's characterization in this, you're a gem!
> 
> Edit 16/05/2021: Hugbox has been replaced with Fundy. I've moved forward the publication date since some parts of this were rewritten pretty substantially, but I'll move it back to the original publication date (June 11th 2020) in a few days.

Over the years, Michael has found that it’s so much easier to deal with the Games if he treats them as a function. A block of code, reusable under different circumstances and with different variables, the same motions repeated year after year after year. It helps to not get attached. 

But when he looks at the kid in front of him and gauges absolutely nothing, it really throws a wrench in the gears. 

The boy he’ll later come to know as Fundy (the boy he’ll one day start to forget was ever called anything else) is a break in the pattern. At first he thought the kid was a gap in the code, a null variable, but… no, that’s not it. He’s a black box, buzzing with thoughts and activity inside, none of it reaching the surface. 

And that, in fact, is something he can work with. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” The kid snaps to face him, and he can already see his analyzing gaze, his guarded expression. Smart, shrewd, a flash of self-preserving instinct in his eyes. Good. “You’re not going to be like me. You said you’re good at hiding, right? So that’s what I need you to do. You’re gonna stay out of the spotlight, out of the way, and you’re not going to make yourself a threat. Can you do that?”

The kid’s looking at him, searching for something in his gaze. Whatever he finds, he’s satisfied by it. He nods. “I can.”

“Good. Then let’s get started.”

_Michael’s chariot ride had been flashy, eye-catching, exciting. Bolts of lightning streaking across the electronic panels on his blue suit, the air around him crackling with electricity, light, power._

Fundy is dressed head-to-toe in black, smoky makeup shadowing his face, for all intents and purposes invisible between the glittering Careers of districts two and four. But there, in the buttons and cuffs of his jacket, on the rim of his hat, on the buckles of his shoes, just the tiniest flashes of gold. Intricate filigree resembling circuitry, artfully placed to sparkle if the light hits them at just the right angle. And then they’re gone again.

_Michael’s interview had been bold, controversial. He’d answered Austin’s rapid-fire questions with enthusiasm and snark and verve, stirring up drama but keeping it behind just the slightest veil of sarcasm, making it humorous instead of traitorous. The audience ate him up._

Fundy’s interview is almost bland. Michael knows the kid’s smart, that he’s funny if he wants to be, but the Capitol will only see what he wants them to see. So he talks minimally, answers with short sentences, merely talks about how he wants to survive. His most marketable quality is that he’s mysterious, enigmatic; but there’s a thin line between mysterious and simply forgettable. 

(“What do you think?” Michael asks Techno one night on the balcony overlooking the training center. Fundy’s finishing up at the edible plants station with a decently high score. When he sees it, though, he grimaces, and starts the whole thing again.

Techno studies him for a moment. “He’s smart. I’m not gonna deny that. And given he’s from 3 and he’s working with you, he probably has a decent grasp on traps. Only mediocre at fighting, but that can be worked with.”

Michael can hear the hesitation in his voice. “...but?”

“But he’s not appealin’ to sponsors. He’s not the kind of brand people look for in a winner. There’s a lot more interesting people on the field this year, you know that. And even if he does something spectacular in that trainin’ session, they won’t give him a high score. Just because he’s not popular with the Capitol. So he’s not expected to win.”

“I know. But...” Michael watches Fundy finish the test again. Perfect score. “Maybe I don’t want him to lose.”)

_Michael had scored a 9. That sent the Capitol buzzing; 3 was an upper district, sure, but still much less well-off than the Career districts around it. A 9 was good. With the attention he’d already gotten, with the addition of sponsors, that made his chances of winning even higher._

Fundy scores a 6. Middling. Not low enough to be irredeemable, not high enough to really be a threat. Not high enough to really be seen as having a chance, either. 

_Michael’s name had been a statement, the cherry on top of his already high popularity. It said that he was himself, that he believed everything that he spewed out, adding to his character and adding to his fame. Even if he lost, he had guaranteed himself an interesting game._

Fundy’s name is… nothing, really. The kid had insisted on using it, spinning some tale of how he’d come up with it years ago and what it all means. But for the people that the name should actually matter to, they wouldn’t know it was anything other than nonsense unless they cared to look further. And not many do, anymore.

...even when he wins, not many care. 

They make him a fox, after. Smart, sly, quick to pounce on an opportunity and then dash out of sight just as fast. He’s out of Michael’s hands at that point; they tell Fundy to be a little more open, a little more playful, and all Michael can do is watch from the sidelines and pray that he’s done enough.

Little Alex Quackity is still the star of the post-game proceedings, the decade Victor still fresh in everyone’s minds, the flaming phoenix eclipsing the shy little fox with ease. When Fundy’s streams start, they don’t quite reach the popularity that a new Victor is expected to. He stays in the shadows. 

Maybe that’s a good thing. 

Michael visits floor 6 on Fundy’s first birthday there. They watch the sunset from the balcony in a comfortable silence. Michael takes a moment to breathe in the air, to try to feel accomplishment for what he did, for finally succeeding. But all he feels now is tired. 

“Can I ask you something?” Fundy asks him, then. His soft accent still shines through in his voice, and Michael hopes that they won’t take that part of home away from him too. (Even if he knows it’s only a matter of time.)

“Sure. Go for it.”

“When we were on that train, the day of the reaping, you said something to me. You said ‘You’re not going to be like me.’ What did you mean by that?”

What _had_ he meant by that? 

Michael hadn’t wanted Fundy to lose, that much is still true. But the game isn’t over yet. It’ll never be over, for as long as people still remember his name. He doesn’t want Fundy to have to be like him, to have to meticulously calculate every word out of his mouth to not be too controversial, too honest, too revealing; to have to throw himself into the spotlight, into that madman’s persona, year after year, stream after stream, video after video. 

Michael is tired. He doesn’t want that for Fundy.

But he simply says “The electricity branding is really fucking uncomfortable. Do you know how many times I’ve accidentally tased myself? And those Capitol tasers are painful, I can tell you.”

Fundy turns away. Michael can tell he knows he’s lying. 

And yet he doesn’t say anything. And yet when he hugs him goodbye later, it’s genuine.

The break in the code hadn’t been the fact that Fundy was so different from Michael. It had been the fact that they were all too similar.

<strike>Michael doesn’t consider that maybe being forced to stay quiet, forced to stay in the background, is just as bad as being shoved into the light.</strike>

_reeeves. District 3. Year 53._

_Shock and awe._

Fundy. District 3. Year 61. 

You’ll never see him coming.


End file.
